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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396696">What the FUCKING fuck happened? To us? To YOU???</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitten/pseuds/bitten'>bitten</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Joe Ratliff - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>M/M</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 02:07:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,089</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25396696</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitten/pseuds/bitten</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy may or may not have gone off the rails<br/>Adam is NOT happy with the present turn of events</p><p>Ricky Rebel is NOT the bad guy in this story!! Ok, he might be a little bit, but honestly, I barely know anything about him, he’s really just a name, an excuse, in this little verse. It ain’t personal.<br/>Also, due to even more recent recent events, I’m rewriting some upcoming chapters (elections trike do have consequences)<br/>Fuck it, by the time my story is done everyone invoked will be dead probably (including me)<br/>Enjoy, if possible</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is based on the limited snippets I've gleamed from things like Twitter and my own devious mind. Never met anyone depicted, and I have a weird brain. Inspired by the fact that Adam and Tommy don't appear to be friends anymore...and that makes me sad...</p><p>This is just a teaser, I'm steadily writing this fic</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy was sipping a beer when he heard a familiar ringtone from his phone.  Familiar, but not often heard. He couldn't remember the last time this had happened. His left eyebrow shot up in a fast quirk as he took one more swallow</p><p>     "Hey, babyboy," Tommy held the phone in one hand and his drink in the other as he sunk back on his couch. This should be good.</p><p>     "What the fuck, Tommy Joe???" Adam's voice was shrill enough that Tommy pulled the phone away from his ear and made an ugly face before putting it back. He sighed. Then smiled. "What the fuck YOU, Adam?"</p><p>     "I can't believe you tweeted that bullshit, Tommy! What the fuck is wrong with you?"</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter Two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Sorry for the long gap in between chapters, life has gotten in the way (laptop issues, connectivity issues, time, family...fucking Covid!!) <br/>There is more coming, this is all I could post today though<br/>If anyone actually reads!</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy rolled his eyes and smirked.  Of course Adam didn't like his tweets, probably quite a few of them. That was not the reason why he had ever tweeted.  But Tommy was going to speak his mind, even if it was just on social media, whenever he felt like it. He was an American, after all. He could say what he felt like saying. Not even the formidable Adam Lambert could stop him. Nothing he said had even been that controversial, he reasoned, it wasn't like kissing a guy on prime time television, after all. <br/>     "Adam,' he started, "calm down. You know..."<br/>     He was cut off by what could only be described as a beautiful, ear-shattering, Lambertesque shriek.<br/>     "I know you've fucking changed! Or maybe you were always hiding behind that stupid, pretty face! So you're a fucking racist now?? You hate immigrants? And liberals? And anyone that doesn't agree with your stupid views? My God, Tommy Joe, if I had known-"<br/>     "Adam, calm down already, ok? I-"<br/>     "You hate gay people now, too, huh?" The anger in Adams voice had a deep undertone of hurt in it. Tommy's eyes widened a little. The fuck?  <br/>     Tommy leaned forward, clutching his phone tightly. Ok, it wasn't even fun now. And a bit offensive, really. "You know better than that." Tommy tried really hard to keep his voice calm and steady.<br/>     "Do I? It seems like the guy I used to think was my best friend in the world is really a fake, hate filled piece of shit. I expected better from you. I thought I fucking knew you, Tommy."<br/>      Tommy was taken aback, shocked and angry all at the same time. After everything, all that bullshit, this was how Adam, of all people, was going to react to his tweets? Adams voice was cold, almost as cold as Tommy's insides were starting to feel. How could he say Tommy was the guy he THOUGHT was his best friend? Adam had practically abandoned Tommy, when Tommy had been in fucking need. Adam hadn't even shown up when....The small blonde shook his head, he could not go there, not right now. But he also was could not let it completely go.<br/>     "Best friend, huh?" he spat, his voice full of venom.  "I thought you were the best boss I ever had. Until you fired me."<br/>     A moment of silence, and then Adam spoke, his voice smooth and calm. And quiet.<br/>     "I'll be there in half an hour. Open the fucking door."  Click.</p>
<p>     Fuck, Tommy thought.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Ch. Thrice ;)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Tommy rolled his eyes as three very loud, sharp resounding knocks practically shook his front door. Holy fuck, he thought, you’re not a fucking cop, for fucks sake. He also realized that before, Adam would have just walked in. It’s not like his door was locked. But that was before.<br/>     Tommy opened the door and leaned against the frame, a beer dangling between his fingers. Adam glared at him, in all his Idol glory of course, he looked amazing. Hair, clothes, makeup (but less than Tommy was used to), buff physique, everything done to a perfect T. Tommy was in pajama pants and an old Metallica shirt that had seen better days. The smaller man smirked anyways. Yeah fuck you, he thought.<br/>     “Let me in, Tommy Joe.”  Adams voice was a low growl.<br/>     Tommy shrugged, walked away and sat on the couch.  He was very proud of himself for not flinching when Adam slammed the door behind him. He stood in front of the guitarist, glowering. <br/>     “What the fuck?” Adam demanded.<br/>     “What?”<br/>     Tommy took a slow sip from his beer.<br/>     “He lost.”<br/>     “So? I mean, maybe he did, maybe he didn’t. So what?”<br/>     Adam’s jaw muscles twitched as he ground his teeth.  “So you admit it!”<br/>     “Admit what exactly?” Tommy’s face was smooth and calm as he looked up at the tall brunette, waiting. His calm demeanor infuriated Adam.<br/>     “What are you doing here, Adam? What is it you want?”<br/>     “What do I fucking want? Goddammit, Tommy Joe, I want you to act like a human being again! I want you to stop all this ultra conservative white supremacist bullshit that isn’t even you! I want you-“<br/>     “Stop it,” Tommy stood up and stepped in clos, looking up at the only man he had ever lived.<br/>     “Stop? Are you even-“<br/>     “I said stop it. You don’t know what’s me anymore, do you?” Tommy’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t have any right to tell me to stop anything.” He stared up at Adam, brown eyes wide and serious and very, very pissed. Adam blinked. Angry was not a word he had ever associated with Tommy, but there was no denying what he saw right now. What had happened to put that look in the other mans eyes?<br/>     They stated at each other for a full minute, unblinking, before Adam spoke again, quietly this time.<br/>     “The things you’ve been posting...they’re not you...”<br/>     “I wrote them.”<br/>     Adam shook his head. “No, the person I know would never say those things.”<br/>     Tommy continued to stare up at Adam, and when he spoke his words cut to Adams heart. To his bones.<br/>     “But we don’t know each other anymore, do we? And that’s not my fault. It was your decision. You don’t have any right to demand answers from me.”<br/>     Adam paused, Tommy was right about that, it was Adams fault, he had turned out to be a shit friend. But he stepped forward again, there was zero space between them now and Adam was hyper aware of Tommy’s...everything. He pushed on.<br/>     “Whose fault is it that you’re like this? Mine? I don’t think so, Tommy.”<br/>     Tommy sighed loudly and stepped around Adam, but not before the singer was able to say one more thing.<br/>     “It’s Ricky, isn’t it?”</p>
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